The Ghosts of Memetopia
by NuitNuit
Summary: Series of k!meme fills for Dragon Age 2.  All fills in this collection are of the lolzy and cracky variety and not at all meant to be taken as oh so serious fic.
1. Hard Men, Soft Water

**_AN: _**_This snippets/stories/etc. contained within are meant to be silly. Tongue should be firmly planted in cheek at all times (you can decide what I mean by cheek). Also sorry about the random category. This is the work around for publishing new stuff while things are borked. I am obviously NOT writing 'Harriet the Spy' fanfic.  
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_**Prompt**: I want ridiculous porn. I WANT TO SEE ISABELA'S WRITING. _

_More specifically, I want someone (or some people?) in the group to find it and possibly read it out loud, either behind her back or to her face (do they dare?). Either way, their reactions must be awesome. _

_Bonus points if it includes a glistening elf who is obviously a horrific/wonderful Fenris expy. _

_Double bonus if Isabela clearly thinks her smut is awesome._

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_The sunlight shone hard and bright against his hard and bright chest. This elf was like no other that Falcone had seen and he had seen many, having a love for those with pointed and erect ears. The sharper the peak, the longer the beak, he had kidded before. Rivulets of water cascaded down the slippery slope of Fenrir's chest. Falcone's chausses felt impossibly tight at the sight, the hardness of pulsing desire swelling his loins._

_A tempest's breeze licked at naked skin and wispy wasps of white lit hair, tussling the loose locks atop Fenrir's head. Falcone could no longer help himself, want, and longing stirring his manhood, stoking the flames of his passion into a desperate cry for action._

_Fenrir smiled, a slight and self-satisfied type of smirk at Falcone. He knew the effect his tattooed body had upon Falcone. Eyes the color of dew kissed grass locked target with Falcone's icy blue. There was a dare in that stare. A challenge set upon the rocky ground that separated the men. And it was a challenge Falcone was more than happy to accept._

_A hungry hunter hunting the hungered hunted, Falcone stalked his prey in a slow, sauntering step. Fenrir moved in mirrored movement, more water sluicing down his skin as he edged from the hot spring. His body was a piece of art to be admired and desired. Red markings coiled along the muscles and limbs of Fenrir like lusty snakes supping upon supple flesh._

_Evidence of Fenrir's growing passion caught Falcone's gaze. As the space between the men narrowed, Falcone reached out, fingertips burning to feel the rigid softness of Fenrir's…_

"What are you reading," Isabella asked causing Fenris to shut the notebook rather quickly. He rolled over onto his back in an attempt to hide the evidence.

"Nothing," he intoned dryly, a look of innocence splashing across his features.

The weight of her gaze bore down upon Fenris. Disbelief colored dark brows. But as if in an instant, a more amused tilt overtook her lips, her grin broad.

Eyes trailed down the line of Fenris' chest and settled their focus upon his pants and his erection. "If I had known the effect my writing had on you, I would have let you read it sooner."


	2. Hole Train

**_AN: _**_I almost didn't anon fail this one, but then I remembered, I have no shame. I hope hell is comfortable.  
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_**Prompt**: __You know what that title means. HOT MANTRAIN sexytimes between m!Hawke, Fenris, Anders and Sebastian. As lulzy and cracked up as you want it to be, I leave it to your sex wisdom dear anons!_

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Hawke insisted the best way to remove blood from the skin was a hot oil treatment his brother showed him once. The fight had been particularly brutal that day, a brigade of bandits falling beneath the hard, firm steel of Hawke and Fenris' swords and the unrelenting wood of Sebastian's arrows and Anders' staff.

Metal, cloth and leather littered the ground at the men's feet. In Hawke's strong manly hand, he held a rather large bottle of the previously slick elixir. He palmed a small portion of the fluid, pouring it into his hand before offering the container to Fenris.

Each man followed suit, cupping the oil within their palm before proceeding to wipe it across blood slicked skin. How blood managed to seep beneath the iron folds of Hawke's armor, he never knew. But it had. His hand drifted down the rolling and defined hardness of his chest and stomach and then settled upon his cock. Fingers coiled about his flaccid penis, stroking upward once, thumb settling upon the very tip of him. A single flick brushed against the head, a drop of blood swiped away.

Only then did he notice the hungered eyes of his companions upon him. There was something predatory in the way in which Fenris stared at Hawke. "You missed a spot," the elf intoned with smoldering.

Hawke continued to work his penis, dark eyes locking with brooding, deep green. "Maybe you'd like to show me…" His tongue ran hungrily over his lips, his gaze releasing its hold upon the elf and wandering lower. The tattoos traveled the _full_ length of Fenris' body, twisting in coiled knots of sexy promise down his chest, stomach, thighs and growingly thick member. "…where."

Invitation received and responded to. With his RSVPenis slapping against a cock hard thigh, Fenris approached Hawke. Lust and lyrium (as the tattoos were there too) coated Fenris' tongue as he plunged it into Hawke's awaiting mouth. The men growled into each other's throats, infusing the other with the a spirit of longing that could only be fulfilled with the stroking of some long things.

The display of hunka-hunka-blue-burning love in front of the hearth (because fires are sexy) caught Anders' attention. Years had passed since he'd been privileged to such a show. A pang for something lost nipped at his gut. Those times in Vigil's Keep where the only pussy around was his cat were some of the fondest memories of his life. Aedan, Nathaniel, the domineering side of Varel as and how he loved to have his balls sucked, those times were gone.

He glanced over his shoulder at Sebastian and had to wonder, or are they? It was always the quiet ones, the chantry boys that had the perverse streaks. And much like the templars (that always seemed to like to watch, like Cullen), Anders caught Sebastian watching him. Sexy shame colored bright blue eyes, pain twisting Sebastian's mouth as his hand prayed upon the altar of his _Maker_.

The moans and grunts of the men behind him filled Anders' ears as he advanced upon Sebastian, the hunter rather than the hunted. It did not take long for the two men to surrender to each other completely. Turgid rods were tugged and licked and nipped and stroked. They moaned, and groaned and gasped and rasped.

Anders threw Sebastian face down onto the bed, a final act of defilement to be completed. Hungry, eager, wanting to be filled to the max, Sebastian's hands pressed against his ass cheeks, spreading his sweet virgin holy hole for Anders. In a single plunge, Anders sank into uncharted waters.

Back by the hearth, Hawke had dropped to the floor, his mouth eagerly pumping against Fenris' cock. Each lusty lick of his tongue caused Fenris to pulse, the lyrium markings upon his body lighting up like the streets on Satinalia. But before Fenris could soak the back of Hawke's throat with a very special potion, he pulled away, the sight of Anders' thrusting ass within his steamy sights.

Fenris' fingers dug into Hawke's hair, tugging the man upright with a vicious pull. This elf didn't play the lady. He pulled Hawke along, causing the warrior leader to walk like a crab person as they made their way toward Anders and Sebastian.

Releasing his hold upon Hawke's head curls, he shifted the focus of his hand to Hawke's _head_ curls and impossibly hard man stick. Remnants of oil coated his hand as he teasingly stroked. Hawke grinned slightly, as if he knew exactly what Fenris had in mind and he did not have to wait long to find out. Those oil soaked fingers soon made target in Anders ass, slipping deep into his _fade_. Anders moaned at the attention, but never once stopped his rapping at Sebastian's chantry door.

When Fenris finally withdrew his fingers and moved to take a spot behind Hawke, Hawke took his position behind Anders. In battle, Sebastian and Anders always hung in the back, lingering behind all and watching. On this battlefield, however, roles were definitely reversed. Taking up the rear was Fenris, as he faded into ghost form. It was a trick he learned in his play with Hawke. No lube required if he entered the man as a ghost. And there was something to be said about the slow constricting feeling as he formed inside of Hawke. That word was: awesome.

An aria of wanton cries and balls slaps filled the air of the room, mixing with the smells of sex, semen and sweat. They moved together, a practiced unit, a well-oiled fuck machine. And in unison, they all came, spilling their seed into each other.

They fell in a lump of jellied flesh, one atop the other. Chests heaved heavy from hearty humping.

And it was only then that Fenris looked over his shoulder, soon followed by Hawke, then Anders and finally Sebastian. Standing in the door way, his pants around his ankles stood Sandal. His hands worked furiously against his penis. Innocent eyes peered at the pile of man flesh, and something sparked lucid. "Engorgement?"


	3. Not So Rude Awakening

_**Prompt**: __Fenris wakes up in the middle of the night to find Anders giving him head. He's freaked out but he goes with it anyway, because damn Anders has a talented mouth._

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Fenris had always been a light sleeper for as long as he could remember, which really wasn't that much given his lyrium markings wiped his mind. Maybe he slept heavy before Danarius. Maybe not. Whenever he took a moment to think about it, he grew depressed and drank.

He drank a lot. Before going to bed on this night, he'd consumed at least a bottle of wine, perhaps more. He could not remember. Those damn markings again (he would never tire of using that excuse). When he felt something wet and warm slick against his cock, he thought for a moment perhaps his pissed himself. But urinating never felt quite _that_ good.

He let out a small curse in Tevinter, something that roughly translated to _fuck me_ as he opened his eyes. What he saw, he did not expected. Feathered pauldrons seemed to flap with movement. A shock of blond hair reflected bright within the dim candlelight.

Anders?

Amber eyes sought to capture the mossy green of Fenris'. Cock filled lips spread into a cheeky grin before Anders' hold upon Fenris' erection was loosened. The length of him ran against Anders' tongue as he slid out of the mage's mouth.

Fenris could not help the small whimper that tickled the back of his throat at the sensation. "Just what do you think you are doing, mage?" He knew he should have pulled away, left the bed, even grabbed his sword and plunged it into Anders. He would wait on the answer to his question first, though.

A corner of Anders' mouth quirked impish and not at all apologetic. "I've grown tired of listening to you talk about how bad mages are, how we all deserve to be locked up. I thought I might show you that we do have other uses."

As much as it pained Fenris to admit, whatever Anders was doing had felt rather enjoyable. There were many times when out with Hawke that Fenris wished Anders would still that tongue of his, but on this evening, he almost regretted that magical tongue had ceased weaving its spell upon his non-magic wand.

Before Fenris could say anything in response, Anders spoke again, his grin only broadening further. "And besides, I didn't figure you could talk much with my mouth full."

Wet heat ensnared Fenris' cock, a gasp biting against his lips at the suddenness of Anders' movement, his mouth taking in the full length of Fenris in a single glide. Teeth brushed against sensitive skin as Anders pulled back ever so slightly causing a lyrium markings to flare blue momentarily.

The low rumble of Anders' self-satisfied chuckle only further enhanced the sensation. Fenris' fingers fisted within Anders' hair, clutching desperately, not at all willing to let the man cease in his mission, his mission to convert Fenris, to help him see the right. "Mage," he gasped. "Lick me your manifesto."


	4. An Act of Erection

**AN: **_Shameboners and Sebastian are like peanut butter & jelly, they just go together. I started working on this piece and well, the prompt came along and that is all she (or me) wrote. Hello prompt I could not resist._

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_**Prompt**: __You know what meme needs more of? Sebastian getting acquainted with his shameful, shameful lust for Hawke (...and possibly the other party members. All night long.). Let him show the Chantry a little self-lovin, just as long as he's busy telling himself what a terrible person he is while he does it._

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Isabela's lack of pants was disturbing.

Sebastian hinted that perhaps he take her to a tailor or dressmaker. But the woman declined and teased, "If you want to see me undressed, Sebastian, you just need to ask."

Visions of tanned and freckled breasts, firm and powerful thighs, the soft pout of Isabela's lips as she smiled speckled his vision. He imagined what it would feel like to sink inside her quaking seas, to ride that ship to port and he was nearly undone. A blush rose upon his cheeks and the first stirrings of want twitched against his thigh. A serpent's temptation darted against his skin, smothering him with shame.

Excuses were made; lies spoken urgently from an all together too dry tongue. He needed to be away from her. He needed to be away from them before they noticed, before Andraste herself began to nod as his erection grew.

He sped along the streets of Kirkwall on his way to the Chantry. Surely within the safety of the Chantry, he would be able to pray his disgrace away, to will his body through the power of his faith to still and seek the path of the righteous and pious rather than that of the lustful sinner. He made eye contact with no one on his way, too penitent, too worried they would see reflected within the bright blue of his eyes the humiliating firmness between his thighs.

A sister tried to speak to him, to offer him greeting as he returned home. He ignored her, rushing toward his small room and slamming the door behind him. His body grew slack as he leaned against the door, breathing heavy and labored from his retreat.

His armor felt too constrictive and was tossed aside piece by piece as he made his way toward the vanity. Cool water was poured into a basin, fingers sinking into the water only to splash it upon his face. The chill of the water did not work as the tonic he sought, however. The coolness upon his skin only made him more painful aware of the fire between his legs.

He was better than this. He was a faithful follower of the Chant. He did not succumb to such base wants.

And yet…

He could not still the movement of his hand as it sunk into waistband of his pants. He could not still the movement of his hand as it nudged both pants and small clothes down his thighs. He could not stop the movement of his fingers as the wrapped, at first, tentatively around his cock. Heat against heat.

Sebastian caught his reflection within the mirror of the vanity. Tears cornered his eyes at the display, at the debauched manner in which he began to pump his now throbbing member. He knew he should stop, that he must stop, but he found himself unable too.

Tears fell, streaking his cheeks and shirt, some even falling upon his hand as he worked himself to frenzy. The moisture felt too good, slicking his rock hard cock and fingers only making his jerking all the easier, all the more an exercise in the exquisitely shameful.

He thought he might choke upon his raspy cries as he felt himself pushed to the edge, as he felt the tangled knots of his orgasm begin to unwind. A hand shot out, clutching at the vanity for balance as he came, seed spilling upon his hand, floor and thighs. His head hung low, eyes looking anywhere but at the evidence of his immorality and abasement that coated him.


	5. Marking Territory

_**Prompt**: I don't think I've seen this, but I'd love to read a fic (silly or serious) about Sebastian's Andraste belt buckle acting as a major cockblock for anyone trying to seduce him. Either because at some point one has to stare face to face with Andraste, or it's an immediate reminder for Sebastian of his chastity vows, or something to that effect. Lots of pent up feelings and sexual frustration ahoy. Prefer a pairing with Fenris, or male!Hawke, but female!Hawke or Anders could be okay too.  
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Sebastian's voice had lulled Hawke into a lazy state of relaxation. Both men lounged about upon a seaside bluff, a moment of peace shared between them after their mid-afternoon picnic. The whole outing had been a ploy by Hawke, to get Sebastian away from the morally repressive confines of the Chantry. Out in the fresh air upon a cliff by the sea, he hoped to free Sebastian of those shackles of chastity he clung to so mercilessly. And the small potion Isabela gave him (_Just put it in his drink and he'll let loose…_) didn't hurt things either.

Hawke rolled to the side, testing the waters with the purposeful graze of a hand against the hard line of one of Sebastian's thighs. If he jerked away, Hawke would claim it merely an accident. If he did not move, Hawke would consider it encouragement to continue.

The prince did not move away. In fact, he stretched out atop the grass, legs spreading slightly as to further push into the experimental rovings of Hawke's fingers. Hawke's tongue slicked across his lips. There was an opportunity here and one he planned to seize.

Very carefully, he brushed his hand along the inside of a thigh then allowed the trail of his fingers to drag toward the Sebastian's belt buckle. The tip of a digit traced Andraste's nose and…

Hawke jerked his hand back. Had it… Had she…

A small bit of blood pooled at the tip of a finger. Had the belt buckle actually bitten him?

Hawke's eyes narrowed as he peered at the face of Andraste. Something glowed within the buckle's eyes. And then she spoke, a voice as sweet as sugar and as soft as silk. "Step off or I'll bite your dick off."

And then she nodded.


	6. The Lighter

_**Prompt**: Our merry band of misfits is trapped! In the dark! With no mages and no light!_

But they're in luck, because they have Fenris, and Fenris _glows_. And obviously, if he's going to be a light source, he's going to have to be naked for it for maximum exposure (heh)?

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? I must know. (Sex would be good. Sexy teasing? Just as good. Unending commentary on Fenris' bits and pieces? Amazing.)  


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Everything became consumed in oppressive blackness as the last flickers of light from the torch were snuffed out. The prince was useless. Even Merrill would have been better. At least if she had been present, she could have performed some spell to relight the torch Sebastian had let fall into a stagnant puddle of water. Fenris would have scowled at the man's back if he had known where to find it.

"Drop your pants, Fenris." The voice was Hawke's.

"Excuse me."

"Drop your pants for freedom." The statement was followed by a small burst of laughter from whom Fenris assumed was Isabela.

Fenris had to wonder if this was some kind of joke he simply did not get.

Perhaps sensing his confusion, Hawke offered an explanation. "Remember that time we were in the bath and you made the water change colors…"

Fenris' head dipped forward, an incredulous sigh touching his lips. He knew where Hawke was going with this and he did not like it one bit. He cursed ever having shown Hawke that very special light show.

His sword slung upon his back, Fenris nudged the sides of his rather fashionable and hip skinny leggings down to his knees. Very carefully, he wrapped fingers about his own very special light switch and flicked it, careful not to let the sharp points of his gauntlets connect at all with his flesh. Within seconds, a faint glow was emitted from the tip of his penis.

"Wow… Fenris, the blue tipped lanterner," Isabela quipped.


End file.
